Someplace Dark
by Richonne
Summary: Almost a year has passed since Hershel came between Beth and Daryl. Now Beth is home from college, on spring break, and Annette invites Daryl to dinner for her nineteenth birthday. Hershel is dead set against Beth and Daryl picking up where they left off, regardless of his wife's approval.
1. Chapter 1

_**Daryl Dixon stepped into the Leaking **_Pipe for the third time that week. He didn't feel quite so guilty about it tonight. It was Friday night and it wasn't odd for him to stroll into the dank little shithole and drink himself into a stupor so he could forget _her_ as easily as she'd probably forgotten him.

It had been almost a year since that day at the swimming hole, when her father had caught them together. Telling himself that breaking up with Beth Greene was for her own good was a band aid at best. He was too old for her. He wasn't good enough for her. She would be wasting her life, her potential, on a worthless redneck like him if they stayed together.

Nobody had known about their relationship. They'd done a good job keeping that to themselves. Still, he heard talk. According to what he'd heard, she'd gone off to college sooner than she'd spoken of to him. He sometimes wondered if it was just to get away from her overbearing father, or to get away from him, or both.

_What would you do in Hershel's place? _

He'd asked himself that same question more times than he could count. Undoubtedly he would have done the exact same thing Hershel had done, were it his little girl, but that didn't make it hurt any less. That didn't make Daryl miss Beth any less.

There was a commotion going on in the middle of the room. Men were laughing and for once Daryl noticed the absence of foulmouthed foolery. He heard a distinctly feminine laugh and then a familiar voice.

"And then I'll be a monkey's auntie if that dog didn't poop diarrhea all over Hersh's new recliner!"

This comment brought uproarious laughter. Daryl stared in fascination as some of the worst despots in the county weren't sitting neat and proper around a couple of tables that had been pushed together, eating apple pie and listening to Annette Greene tell stories.

"Oh, there he is!" she said, spotting Daryl's bewildered countenance by the door. He had a powerful rush of déjà vu seeing her standing there, looking like an older version of Beth, waiting for him. "You boys enjoy the pie and thank you for being kind and polite. Especially you, Billy, you dirty old fart," Annette said, not unkindly, before pinching the face of a grizzled, greasy man up in his seventies who blushed furiously as she left the table to come over to Daryl.

He was mad at her for some reason. She'd invaded his personal space and brought something good into this cesspool that he used to punish himself for not being good enough for the woman he loved.

"It ain't safe for you here," he chided her.

"Oh, phooey!" she said, waving a hand dismissively. "They're not gonna hurt me. I've patched most of these men up at one point or another back when I was a nurse. Why don't we find a quiet spot outside and leave them to their business of drinking and cussing and raising hell?"

She pulled him outside and he was helpless to follow.

"Something wrong with Beth?" he asked.

"Very much so, yes," Annette said gravely.

"Is she sick?" he asked, his concern growing.

"Oh, she's terribly sick," Annette answered with a heavy sigh.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked, his concern now reaching near panic levels.

"She's got an awful case of love-sickness. One of the worst I think I've ever seen," Annette explained.

Daryl heaved a sigh of relief and walked over to his bike. He'd feared Beth had come down with a case of something serious but it was just Annette teasing him. He self-consciously dusted the bike seat off and then motioned for her to lean against it, which she politely did while Daryl shoved his hands awkwardly in his pockets.

"I'm doing the right thing."

"Are you?"

"I'm respecting y'all's wishes, ain't I?" he kept his tone respectful. He liked Annette. He didn't want to come off as rude to her. She was, in his eyes, and the eyes of anyone who met her, a true lady.

"You're respecting Hershel's wishes," she corrected.

He studied her open, honest face. "You're okay with me and Beth?"

She nodded. "Hershel is almost as old over me as you are over Beth," she informed him. "He was always attracted to younger women. He had a few good years over Jo and he's got a few over me. Still, he can't see straight when it comes to his daughters."

"Makes him a hypocrite if you ask me. No offense."

She grinned. "I agree, but if you tell him I said that I'll deny it and slap you silly."

"Understood," he grinned.

"I want to see your home," she suddenly said, after a few moments of silence.

Daryl shifted uncomfortably. "Huh?"

"I want to see where you live," she said. "Will you show me?"

He shrugged, wondering what she was up to. "Yeah, I can. You can follow me."

"I'll have to ride on the bike. I walked here."

His mouth fell open. "On a Friday evening? On _this _road? That's a three mile hike!"

Annette shrugged. "I enjoy long walks. Always have. Come on. You said you'd show me your house, so keep your word. Plus, I've always wanted to ride on a motorcycle."

After a few moments of uncertainty Daryl climbed onto the bike and Annette got on behind him. It was weird, having Beth's mother on the bike behind him, wanting to see his house. What was she up to? He decided he'd just have to let her reveal that to him when the time came.

* * *

_**Daryl was embarrassed to show**_ a lady like Annette Greene his trailer. He'd gotten the truck down off the blocks and fixed it up so that now it was parked in back. He still preferred his bike. It was easier on gas and he liked the open air moving over him. The lawn was neatly kept, as was his house. Still, he was embarrassed to have her there.

She stepped into the trailer and looked around in approval.

"Your mama taught you to keep a neat place, I see."

"My mama never taught me nothin. She wasn't like you, Mrs. Greene."

"Call me Annette. Are you a self-taught man?"

He nodded. "My family was a buncha slobs. I hated that."

"So you refuse to live like that now," she concluded. "You know, just to look at you from a distance, someone would judge you to live in a trailer that was run down and dirty and ill kept. They'd judge you to have an overgrown yard full of beer cans. That you wouldn't shower or brush your teeth."

He cocked his head to the side, looking for all the world like a confused puppy to Annette. Her heart went out to him. She touched his face, feeling very motherly towards Daryl, even though she wasn't a great deal older than him. He loved her baby girl and she could easily accept him as a son. She wished Hershel felt the same.

"That's what they would think from a distance. That's where Hershel is going wrong, Daryl. He's judging you from a distance. May I look in your bathroom, bedroom, and refrigerator?"

"Uh…sure…yeah…"

He stood in the living room, feeling like his mother was going to check that he'd actually put sheets on the bed and not fudged it. She came back a few minutes later and looked in the fridge.

"Lotta beer in here," she commented. "You cook?"

"Yes ma'am."

"You drink a lot?"

"Not till…"

She nodded in understanding. "I'm ready to go home. Give a lady a lift?"

"I don't think your husband would like that."

"Beth's there. You may glimpse her."

"Okay," he said, a little too quickly, feeling like she'd played him like a fiddle. "Just make sure Mr. Greene doesn't shoot me with a 12 gauge."

"You've got my word. No buckshot in the behind for you, young man."

* * *

_**Hershel sat on the porch**_, watching the last rays of the sun disappear from the sky as full dusk kicked in. His wife, Annette, had walked off with one of the biggest apple pies he'd ever seen her bake and hadn't come back yet. He'd thought she was going over to the Walters' farm for a visit but a call to Eugenia had confirmed Annette wasn't there. Her behavior confused him. It was Beth's birthday. Why was she baking pies and running off in the evening on foot?

Now he was alone with his daughters, Beth and Maggie, both of whom were home from UGA on spring break. Beth had decided she was going to be an engineer. She had the math skills for it, and it would be a long road ahead, but he didn't doubt for a second she could do it. He'd hoped she'd talk about a new boyfriend, someone she went to school with, but she didn't mention anyone.

In fact, Beth didn't mention anything to him. She acted like he didn't exist unless she was answering a question directly. She was polite, but she was also well and truly done with trying to have any kind of relationship with him. He'd hoped that after almost a year away from the Dixon fella she'd realize that what he'd done was for the best.

Hershel begrudgingly respected Daryl's resolve to do right by Beth by not seeing her anymore. She'd done her level best to win him over immediately after their breakup, but Daryl had refused. When he'd said the chain was on his door he'd meant it. He'd stuck to it. He was a man of his word and Hershel felt a pang of regret for calling him trash. He knew of the Dixon clan but it was plain to see that Daryl Dixon differed from them in that his word was his bond.

Speak of the devil...

He heard the roar of a motorcycle, one he hadn't heard on his land in almost a year, and he wondered what on earth Daryl Dixon was doing riding up to his property.

* * *

_**Daryl's stomach was tight when**_ he saw Hershel sitting on the porch. The old man stood up, already looking like he was ready to go for a shotgun. A figure in the window of the second floor caught his attention. It was Beth. He hadn't seen her in almost a year. His chest constricted as tight as his belly. God, he'd hoped he'd be over her a little more, but seeing her made his heart ache.

"Annie! What the hell are you doing?" Hershel demanded, seeing that his wife was on the back of the bike with Daryl. He couldn't begin to imagine what had possessed her to ride on the thing.

"Daryl's giving me a ride home. I went to the Leaking Pipe," she explained.

This earned an open mouth and an expression of shock from her husband. "You went where?"

"To the Leaking Pipe. I wanted to see Daryl. Come on in, Daryl," she said.

"He will not!" Hershel shouted.

"Don't you raise your voice at me, Mister," Annette said coolly.

"I'm sorry, Honey, but I won't have him in my house."

"It's my house too, is it not?"

"Of course but-"

"I'm inviting Daryl to dinner. This feud has gone on long enough, Hersh."

"I'd really rather not-" Daryl began, but Annette grabbed his hand and began hauling him toward the porch and her big, tall, scowling husband.

"I know it's hard being somewhere you don't feel welcome, but believe me when I say you're wanted here by me and my daughters. It's the old fart here that's causin' trouble."

Hershel was insulted. "Annie!"

"Come inside, Hersh. Wash up."

* * *

_**Beth sat down on the**_ bed, her heart thundering in her chest. With her bedroom window open she'd heard the entire exchange. She'd seen her mother grab Daryl's hand and drag him toward the porch from where he'd parked his bike.

_What's she doing?_

Daryl had made it plain and clear he didn't want her. Well, that wasn't really true, or fair, she supposed. She knew he wanted her, but he wouldn't have anything to do with her as long as her father disagreed with them being together. She was almost as angry with him as she was with her father. She was old enough to make her own choices. She'd hoped Daryl would respect that, even if her father couldn't.

She waited for a few moments before she decided to wash up for dinner. She could smell the roasted chicken her sister Maggie was cooking. The door opened and she almost thought, for a moment, that it would be Daryl. She felt silly. He wouldn't dare, not with her father there, but she'd still hoped.

It was Maggie.

"Is that the hottie you were telling me about?" she asked, upon entering.

Beth nodded her agreement. "He is hot, isn't he?"

"Damn straight he is. Mmm, mmm!"

"Maggie!"

"I might steal him for myself."

"Daddy won't let you."

"Daddy ain't the boss of me," Maggie replied. She sat down on the bed and bit her bottom lip in that way she did right before she said something naughty. She had a mischievous look in her eye. "Is he good in the sack?"

"Maggie!"

Maggie nudged her. "Come on, I'm your sister, tell me! Is he?"

Beth nodded and they burst into a fit of giggles. "He's incredible, actually."

"You know, after we've eaten and Daddy has pitched his fit, you should jump on the back of that bike, go home with him, and then jump on him. It's what I'd do."

"Yeah, but you're older than me."

"You're nineteen today, Beth," Maggie pointed out. "Daddy don't have a say, and Annette approves. Now, go wash up and come on down to dinner. Maybe with you there I can keep my tongue in my mouth and not drool so hard."

Downstairs, Daryl realized that today was a birthday celebration. There was a pretty birthday cake with vanilla frosting and elaborate pink and yellow roses that said _Happy 19__th__ Bethie_ in pink icing. Girl loved pink. Daryl had forgotten that about her.

His entire body stiffened when he heard Beth's familiar footfall. She was preceded by her elder sister, Maggie, who'd looked him up and down as though he was a gigantic lollipop she wanted to open and lick. Her intense gaze was almost as intense as Hershel's, though in a much more tolerable way. Hershel sat staring daggers into Daryl from his place at the head of the table.

Daryl's eyes met Beth's for the first time in almost a year.

"Daryl," she said.

"Beth," he said, standing until she could take a seat.

Maggie very obviously led Beth around the table to sit next to Daryl. "I want to sit across from you," Maggie said with a wink. "That way I won't have to strain my neck to drool over you."

"Maggie, that's enough," Hershel snapped.

Maggie laughed in response while she and Annette began setting the food out. Hershel blessed the dinner and, without thinking, Beth began loading food onto Daryl's plate. She seemed to know, instinctively, that he wasn't going to take anything for himself, not with Hershel glaring at him over Beth.

Dinner progressed with Maggie and Annette keeping up conversation, engaging Daryl, though Beth herself said very little to him. She was caught between her father and Daryl, and Annette felt a stab of pity for her, as did Maggie. They both wished Hershel would at least try to be civil.

"I went to Daryl's home today," Annette said.

Hershel coughed as green bean went down wrong. "What?"

"I wanted to see where he lived. He's a fantastic housekeeper," she said. "He's so neat. He can cook, too."

"No kidding?" Maggie said, looking at Daryl with renewed interest. "What d'you say you and I run off to Atlanta and elope?"

"Hey," Beth said involuntarily.

Maggie's eyebrows rose in amusement. "You don't seem to want him."

"I do too!" she said, also involuntarily.

Hershel heaved a sigh.

Daryl felt a bubble of lightness in his chest at those words. Beth still wanted him. Now it didn't matter how surly Hershel was. He couldn't imagine anything could take this feeling away, even though he knew nothing could come of it. Her hand came to rest on his knee under the table.

"Are you touching him under the table?" Hershel asked suspiciously.

"God, I certainly hope so," Annette said.

"Annie!"

"I would, if I was her, and you were Daryl," she explained.

Maggie, Beth, and even Daryl laughed. Beth brought her hand up and called for cake. They sang happy birthday and from then on it felt a lot easier to ignore Hershel's pugnacity.

* * *

"_**I'll walk you out," Beth**_ offered to Daryl, after they'd finished the cake and indulged in some conversation.

"Before you go, there's something I want to say."

"Daddy," Maggie began, but he held up a hand to silence her.

"No! This is my home and I will have my say. Annie, I don't know what you're attempting with this dinner, by inviting him here, but I do not appreciate it. This man isn't wanted in my home, nor is he wanted near my daughter. I thought we'd settled this matter last year, but I see I was wrong. Daryl, I understand that my wife drug you into this and I don't blame you. I've appreciated that you kept your word and kept your distance from Beth so she can go on to make something of herself. You're not like your family-"

"You don't know my family. Don't presume you do," Daryl said calmly, but coolly.

"True. True, I don't know them. I just know of them. You're obviously a man of your word. I was wrong to refer to you as trash, last year. You're not trash. You strike me as a decent man, but you're not right for Beth. You and I know it, even if they don't. This is the last time I'll have you in my home because I don't want Beth getting her hopes up. I want that clear, Annie. The _last_ time."

Annette didn't respond. She just kept her fingers steepled under her chin and let Hershel get it off his chest. She'd deal with him in her own way, in her own time.

"Now Beth, walk Daryl out and say _goodbye_."

Daryl's mood plunged, though he thought everything had gone fairly well, considering. At least Hershel hadn't called him trash and had acknowledged he was wrong to have done so the last time.

"Miss Annette," he said.

"Call me Annette, or Annie, Daryl."

"Yes ma'am, Annette," he replied, bowing his head. "Maggie, good to meet you," he said, offering his hand.

Maggie shook it. She had a look of sympathy in her eyes. "It was good to meet you too, sexy."

He grinned and shook his head. She was a playful spitfire that was for sure. He found it hard to believe Maggie wasn't Annette's flesh and blood.

Out at the bike, Beth stood beside him and they shared a moment in silence.

"I'm glad you were here," she said. Her hand reached out to his shoulder. "I've missed you every day since that day at the swimming hole. Have you missed me?"

"Of course I have."

"For all my father's bluster, he can't really keep us apart, Daryl. That's on you. He can hate it all he wants but in the end its our decision."

"I don't want to come between you and your father."

"You kind of already have. I don't speak to him unless spoken to."

"Beth…"

"I can't help it, Daryl. I love you, and he took you from me. I don't know if I can ever forgive that. I can still go to school. I can still have a career. I can do all of those things with you in my life. Just remember that."

She pressed a piece of paper in his hand.

"My cell number. Call me or text me. It won't ring into the main house. He don't have to know."

She longed to kiss him, to taste the sweetness of the cake on his lips, to play her tongue against his. She settled for a chaste kiss to the lips that ended all too quickly, leaving her lips warm and wanting more.

"I love you too," he said, saying the words for the first time. "I always will."

He started the bike and Beth backed away. She watched him go and when she could no longer hear the rumble of the engine she went back into the house. Her father was watching her closely.

"At some point," she said to him, "you're going to have to let go and let me grow up."

She didn't wait for a response. She wasn't going to have that argument with him for the fifth time.

* * *

**A/N**: This fic will have one, maybe two more chapters, so keep a lookout for updates.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **The conclusion of this fic. I couldn't wait so I decided to post both parts today. I'm very happy with this particular story.

* * *

_**Daryl had never been good with**_ technology, but he got up the next day and went to a nearby mall. There was a place there that sold cell phones and he got one with a slide out keyboard since testing out the touchscreen had defeated his thick fingers. After learning the ins-and-outs of texting he went off to see if there was any work for him that day at Bolen's Bikes.

The boss, Jude, was an all right kind of guy. He was up in his sixties, morbidly overweight, and sweated a lot, but he had a good head for business and he didn't treat Daryl like he was garbage, as most of the so-called good people of the town were wont to do. Jude's wife Millie had put him on a diet and he'd started to show that he was losing weight, but he was grumpy about being hungry a lot. At the moment, Jude sat in the office taking an insulin injection.

"Hey, Daryl! Come on in. Got a proposition for ya, if you're interested. Duke Macklin quit this morning 'cause I wouldn't let him work drunk. If you're interested, I'd like to give you the job. You're the best mechanic I got and you don't go startin' shit with the other employees like Duke."

A permanent job was exactly what Daryl had been looking for. He didn't grin to show how happy he was. Openly expressing feelings was something he only did around Beth. He nodded, though, and that was good enough for Jude.

"Job pays twenty dollars an hour," said Jude, looking at the glucose meter and unaware of the look of surprise on Daryl's face.

_Twenty bucks an hour?_

Daryl had never in his life had a job that paid that much. He usually subsisted on around nine or ten grand a year. Now he'd be making four times that much. When Jude looked up, he frowned.

"That's really all I can afford, and it's pretty average pay for a-"

"No, that's cool," Daryl said, realizing Jude mistook his shock for disappointment. "I'm fine with that."

"Great! You'll need to be here every morning by 7AM to open the shop at 7:30. You'll be gettin' off work at about 4PM every day. Paydays is every Friday at end of shift. Sound good to you?" asked Jude.

"I'm in."

"Great. Go to Millie's office. She'll get the paperwork done. You're gonna be payin' taxes now, Dixon, just like the rest of us poor bastards."

* * *

_**Daryl's first inclination upon learning he'd**_ landed a permanent job was to call Beth and tell her, but he resisted the urge. He shouldn't have bought the cell phone. He'd tried to do the right thing by throwing out her number, but he'd memorized it as soon as he'd looked at it. He'd learned it and now he couldn't unlearn it. Now he had it programmed into his phone and he knew that as soon as he was home later that day he'd be calling her.

A steady job. He'd only tried it once, when he was twenty, but life with Merle had meant hard drinking, women, and hangovers, and more often than not he was too sick to go to work in the morning. He wasn't going to make that mistake now. He was done drinking.

You can provide for her.

He knew that roughly forty grand a year wasn't a huge salary, but they could live off it. He could build his credit, get a better house, and a car, and…

And her father would still be dead set against them.

_Who gives a shit what Hershel wants? What about what you want? What about what Beth wants?_

That was a question he'd asked himself a million times since he'd left Beth's house the night before. He was always torn between deciding that his and Beth's happiness mattered more than Hershel's, and that it wasn't right to date a man's daughter without his approval.

The first day of his official employment at Bolen Bikes went by strangely. When he thought of Beth the time crawled. When he put his mind to his work the time flew by.

"Hey, Dixon."

Hank Loomis walked toward him, his dark skin gleaming with sweat from the hot day. He smiled at him and wiped at an oily rag in his hands.

"Hey there, Loomis."

"I hear you've been hired on full time."

"Yeah."

"Good for you, man. You deserve it."

Daryl nodded at Loomis and watched the young man cruise by. Loomis was a gifted mechanic, and had even given Daryl a few pointers on how to repair things that he hadn't learned doing the job, or from his father or his brother Merle. It occurred to him the kind of comments he'd have to listen to from Merle if he'd seen Daryl so much as speak to a black man.

Sometimes he caught himself having some of those thoughts creep up in his mind, that he shouldn't talk to Loomis, that he should keep his distance, but then he would remember Loomis had never been anything but kind to him. The color of his skin didn't mean anything to Daryl, though he'd been told all his life that blacks weren't as good as him and that they weren't meant to mix, in any way.

That was just another thing about his family that Daryl couldn't understand, and that he had long ago decided he wouldn't bring into the new life he'd forged for himself when he moved out on his own and kicked his family out of his life.

He was surprised when he walked outside to find his cousin Jenna, one of the only family members he still spoke to, straddling a bike of her own. She'd gone to trade school and had a job as a beautician, but she still liked to ride a bike. She was even on the cusp of opening her own beauty shop and Daryl was proud of her. Not all of their family were losers.

Her long black hair whipped in her face and she turned her brown eyes to him when she realized he was coming out of the shop.

"Who's the brown hottie?" she asked, but her voice sounded flat.

"Don't let Gramma hear you say that."

"Hey, I got a baby by a black man, remember?"

She knew Daryl was the only one in the family that didn't treat her like dirt for that fact. Hell, he'd been the only one to do anything for either her or her daughter. Daryl sometimes wondered if she loved her daughter's father, or if she was only with him to spite the family.

"You okay?" he asked. "You look down."

"I'm not down. I'm just tired. It's Gramma. They got her in the hospital. She's got double pneumonia."

"She at St. Mary's?"

Jenna nodded. "On a brighter note, Lindsay says hi. She wants to marry you when she grows up."

Lindsay was Jenna's little girl, a beautiful child with olive skin and hazel eyes. Daryl grinned at the thought of her and he couldn't wait to see her again. He'd have to get her something special. "You tell her we're cousins and that ain't the kinda thing cousins do?"

"She's four. She wants to marry everybody, even me," Jenna laughed. "I think she just wants a wedding real bad."

"I got a job here," Daryl said, changing the subject. "Permanent. Just got hired today. Twenty bucks an hour."

"Daryl, that's great! I'm really proud of you, Cuz."

"How do I ask for time off already to go sit with Gramma?"

"You don't," she said quickly.

"Jenna-"

"No, Daryl. As much as we feel responsible for family, don't forget you and me both got scars on our backs from that hateful bitch. How many times she hit us with a belt buckle across the back? And your daddy did the same to you 'cause his mama and daddy did it to him. You can't risk your new job to go runnin' off to the hospital to sit with a woman who's cursin' us both to her last breath. You stay and work. I'll let you know when the old witch passes."

Jenna kissed him goodbye and he watched her ride off, her silver helmet gleaming in the bright sunlight of early evening. He didn't wear a helmet himself, though he knew he should. He just trusted his head was hard enough to survive a fight with the pavement. He loved her for what she'd said. He had no inclination to go spend his free hours with a spiteful, bitter shell of a woman he didn't love and who still cussed him, even as cancer and other illnesses ate away at her body. No, he'd rather go home, cook up a steak dinner, and try to get used to texting. Now that he had a steady job, he'd actually use the air conditioning so he wouldn't roast this summer. After all, he could afford to pay the bill. Yeah, it was going to be a good evening.

Or so he thought.

When he pulled up to his trailer, he found Hershel Greene pacing in the dirt driveway, his face thunderous.

"Where is she?" Hershel demanded.

"How'm I s'posed know?"

"Don't play dumb with me, boy."

"I ain't your boy, _Hershel_," Daryl snapped. Fuck respecting this man with Mr. Greene. He was done taking the old man's shit, especially if it was for shit he hadn't even done.

"Beth's gone. Where else would she be but here, with you?"

"I've been at work all day," Daryl said. "I ain't seen her."

"You got a job?" Hershel said, as though surprised. "Doing farm work again?"

"No, I've got a job as a full-time mechanic, makin' twenty bucks an hour, if you must know," Daryl shot back.

Hershel's brow creased. He looked genuinely surprised. "Good for you. Now let me in so I can talk to Beth."

"She can't be here. My door's locked," Daryl said, climbing the steps and slipping his key into the lock. "Just go home, leave me the fuck alone."

"I'm not leaving without her!"

"She ain't here, goddamn it!"

Daryl went in and intended to shut the door in Hershel's face, but the old man rudely pushed his way inside the stuffy trailer. He figured fair was fair since Daryl had come into his home unwanted.

It was so hot that he knew at once Beth couldn't have been inside. She'd have opened a window or turned on the AC, though, he had to admit, the place was spotlessly clean. His wife hadn't been lying about that. This guy was neater than his Beth. Had she been there, evidence of it would be visible. A magazine on the couch, her shoes in the middle of the floor, something to give her away. There was nothing.

That didn't stop him from searching the bedroom and the bathroom. He came back and looked Daryl over, as though perhaps Daryl had invented some magical way to hide his daughter in one of his pockets.

"What?" Daryl said.

"If she's not here where could she be?"

"Did you try calling her?" asked Daryl, as though speaking to a simpleton.

Hershel nodded. "She left her phone in her room."

"What happened?"

"We had a fight. About you," he said, sounding unfairly accusatory, as though Daryl had been there to purposefully stir shit between him and his daughter. "She took off into the woods. I figured she was taking some kind of shortcut here and was hiding in your place, but nobody answered. I didn't know you were at work. She's been gone all day."

"When did the fight happen?"

"4:30 this morning, when we got up to get ready to work," answered Hershel.

He looked genuinely distressed. If he didn't dislike the old man so much, Daryl would have felt sympathy for him. As it was, he wasn't particularly inclined to feel anything but concern for Beth.

"Did you call the cops?"

"I tried that just before you came in. They said she's an adult and that she-"

"An adult? Did you believe them when _they _told you?" Daryl interrupted.

"Don't be a smart ass, Dixon."

"I'll be whatever I want, Greene. This is my place."

Hershel pressed on, though is fists were balled tightly at his sides. "They said that she would have to be missing for twenty-four hours before they could step in and do anything. God knows what can happen to her, out there, lost in the woods with no food or water in this heat."

He had a point, Daryl couldn't deny it. He was worried too.

"You're an excellent tracker, or so I've heard. I hoped you could track Beth. I just want her safe."

Daryl nodded. "I am a good tracker. I'll need to start off from the house, if you don't mind me stepping foot on your property."

"Of course you can," Hershel said, irritated.

"Fine, but let's make this clear. I go alone. I'll find her and bring her home."

"I'll be in your debt," said Hershel.

"Whatever. Lock the door behind you."

* * *

_**Beth was starting to panic. **_

She'd never had the best sense of direction, but she'd thought she knew the landscape. She'd assumed that once she left her father's property she'd find the old mill road and she could take that most of the way to the main road. From there she could cut through the trees to Daryl's place, but she'd gotten turned around nd now she had no idea where she was. All the trees looked exactly alike, and so did the area.

The sun had emerged after a midnight rain and the day was particularly humid. She felt tired and thirsty from hours of walking. She was dehydrating quickly and she knew that if she didn't find water soon she could pass out, or possibly even die.

_What do I do? Why didn't I bring my stupid phone?_

She tapped the flashlight she'd taken with her when she'd stormed off that morning against her hip. She'd been chipping pieces of bark off trees with it, and now she realized she was retreading old territory. Frustration and fear came out in a growl.

A second later it was answered by another growl. Then another. Then another.

Beth had been about to try another direction she hoped she hadn't already tread when she heard the animals growling. Her stomach clenched in terror. She searched the trees and saw three matted, mangy feral dogs were watching her. They bared their teeth and inched closer, still unsure of her, but growing bolder by the second.

There was no shelter, only trees, and most of them had branches that were too high for her to reach. She was about to panic when she spotted a tree with branches low enough for her to jump and grab if she could get a run up first. She took off. At once the dogs gave chase. Their blood lust and hunger had them snarling as they ran after her.

Beth put the flashlight in her mouth, jumped, and caught the lowest branch on the tree. She pulled herself up, wishing she'd paid more attention to athletics and had built her upper body strength a little more, but she knew she'd be strong enough, especially considering her survival depended on it, to haul her body up onto the branch.

Suddenly she felt a searing pain in her left calf and she panicked as her upward momentum suddenly reversed. She struggled as she felt teeth tear at her flesh. She used her right foot against the tree for leverage and pushed herself up, but another set of teeth gripped her shoe and began tugging her down. She kicked, screamed, cried in terror, and lost her shoe, but finally she pulled herself up. There was fiery pain in her calf but she didn't stop to examine it, though she could feel the blood all but pouring from her leg.

Below, the dogs licked at the blood drops on the ground. One of them went back some distance, as though mimicking her attempt to get a run up. Beth hurriedly climbed to the next branch, and then one further up. The dog did indeed leap, but it smashed into the lower branch and crashed to the ground with a pained and angry yelp. It, and the other two members of its pack, yelped and scratched at the tree in desperation to get at her.

Once Beth was seated in the crook of two sturdy branches, she dared a glance at her leg. The bite was deep, and some flesh had been pulled out in a meaty mess. She was bleeding profusely. Thinking quickly, she worked her bra off and used it to apply pressure to the wound until she was sure it had stopped bleeding. She thanked God that her father insisted they all have regular rabies vaccine boosters since they worked on a farm with animals, and he often took in stray dogs and cats to foster before finding them permanent homes.

Still, the wound was painful, and Beth's vision began to blur. She tied the bra around her leg, secured it tightly, and then settled against the tree, testing to see if she would fall if she fainted. She felt reasonably secure and settled down to wait.

It was doubtful Beth would be able to outwait the dogs. They would stay for days if it meant getting to feed. She knew they could sense her weakness. They could smell her blood, which kept their appetites whetted. Even worse, they'd tasted it. No, there was nothing that would get rid of the dogs but a handler, or death.

The predicament Beth found herself in frightened her. She'd have to be missing for at least twenty-four hours before the police would get involved. Her father may not even think to come looking for her until the next morning. If they did come looking, what if they found her, and therefore found the dogs? What if they were attacked?

What if the one who came looking and found her first was Daryl? He'd be one man against three feral dogs. The idea that either he or her father would get hurt because she'd run off like a spoiled child in a snit made her stomach roll with fear. She very nearly vomited. Her head began to throb and her mouth was as dry as dust. The heat was wearing her down and she began to feel very sleepy. Aware she was doing so, and powerless to prevent it, Beth began to lose consciousness.

* * *

_**Daryl didn't find it at all**_ difficult to pick up Beth's tracks. She'd left angry, gouging the soil as she stomped off. She'd walked over two miles, heading in the general direction of his place, before she'd calmed down and began to take lighter, more difficult to detect steps. Well, they would have been difficult for a lesser tracker. For him, they were still clear as day.

He situated the water flasks slung over his shoulder and wondered, as he followed her trail, if he would have had the fortitude to send her home if she'd knocked on his door in the early morning hours. He didn't think he would have, and he forced his mind to the job at hand rather than indulge in fantasies of pulling Beth to him, kissing her, running his hands over her body, and sinking into her wet warmth…

Finally he came upon the precise place where Beth veered off course. She went left when she should have turned right, just past the old mill road. The dirt road was so overgrown from lack of use it was easy to miss if you didn't know what to look for.

He watched her tracks, seeing she'd gone in circles for a while before shooting off into the forest, heading away from his place, not toward it. Eventually he began to notice that she'd hacked bark off of trees, probably trying to keep track of where she was going. It had done her no good, and he would have to ignore them sine he realized they were going in circles. He'd have to stick to her footprints.

He stilled when saw new prints overlaid on hers. They were paw prints, and they were fairly large. It scared him to find three distinct sets.

"Beth!"

He listened. There was no response.

Daryl took off now, running. He would lose the light soon, and he feared that he'd find Beth torn to pieces by feral dogs. If that happened…

"Beth!"

He saw the dogs then, circling a tree that had blood running down one side. They turned to him, growling, sensing fresh prey within their reach. Daryl leveled the gun he'd brought along for protection at the biggest dog, the one that had blood around its muzzle, and fired, killing it at once.

The other dogs backed off cautiously, prepared to run since the noise scared them, but their hunger kept them around, growling and trying to size Daryl up. He shot again, taking another dog out. The third one bolted, but Daryl took aim and shot it, too, before it could disappear into the trees. He didn't want it trying to hunt them later, in the dark.

"Beth?"

"Daryl? Are you really there?"

"I'm here, baby. Can you climb down?"

"I think so."

"I'm coming up," he said. "I'll help you. Stay put."

He was going to climb up after her but she tried to get herself down. He could see by the dazed look on her face she wasn't okay. He was going to tell her to stay put when she pushed her legs over the edge, tried to lower herself to another branch, missed, and came falling from the tree. He broke her fall, trying to catch her, and it knocked the wind out of him.

"Beth? Are you okay?"

"Tired."

She was hot. Her skin was dry. He took the flask out and sat against the tree, holding her against him. He poured some into her mouth. She drank slowly. He made sure she got at least two cups into her before he dumped water over her head and soaked her hair and shirt. She started to come around and he gave her another couple of cups to drink.

"I've got to get you home," he said.

"Don't wanna go," she said. "Daddy's not going to let me see you. He's going to keep us apart unless I make him accept you."

"We can talk about this later."

"No," she said weakly. "Didn't you mean it when you said you love me?"

"Of course I did."

"Then prove it. Come back to me."

"Okay," he said. "I'll come back, but you have to promise me you'll go home."

"Come home," she corrected.

"What?"

"Come home. I want your home to be my home. I want to move in with you. I can go to school part time and get a job and help support us."

"I've already got a job," he said, and told her of his new position at Bolen's Bikes. She smiled tiredly. "Your father will shoot me if you move in with me."

"You don't want me there, fine, but don't turn me down because of him."

"I want you there, of course I do," he said, kissing her forehead. "I want you with me every day."

"Then he'll just have to accept you. If he doesn't, it's his loss."

She leaned back and kissed him. He returned it softly, gently.

"Say it again."

"Say what?"

"You know," she said, chuckling.

"I love you. Now up you go. I'm going to piggyback you home."

"Home," she said, smiling happily, even though she was still exhausted from her ordeal.

"Yeah," he said, and hoisted her onto his back. "Home."

* * *

_**She was alive. She was relatively**_ unhurt. She had to have her leg stitched up at the hospital, but otherwise she'd be all right. Now that the danger had passed, Hershel couldn't wait to collect his baby girl and take her home.

She was emerging from the ER at one in the morning with Daryl Dixon. Hershel, his wife, and his elder daughter Maggie, were approaching. He didn't like that they were holding hands, but considering Dixon had saved Beth's life, he'd forgive it.

"Daryl, thank you for saving my baby girl."

Daryl nodded and shook the hand Hershel offered. "She's tough, and she's smart. She's a survivor."

Hershel held out a hand to Beth, but she didn't move. "Come on, Bethie," he urged. "Time to go home."

"I agree," she said. "I'm going home. With Daryl."

Hershel closed his eyes. He was determined to keep his temper in check this time. A hospital parking lot at one in the morning was neither the place for a family argument nor for him to lose his temper.

"Daryl's not coming back to the farm, Beth."

"No, I'm not," Daryl said. "Beth is coming home with me. She wants to move in with me and I want her to."

There were smirks on Annette and Maggie's faces but they wisely kept their mouths shut.

"Over my dead body," Hershel shouted.

"I'm not having this fight with you, Daddy. I love you," Beth said, "but this is my decision to make. You don't have to like it, but you are gonna have to accept it. I'll be around tomorrow afternoon to pack my things."

They started toward Daryl's bike.

"Get back here!" Hershel shouted. "I'm not joking with you, Beth. Get back here!"

"Hersh," Annette said, as Beth continued to walk away from him. She got onto the bike behind Daryl.

"Beth…" he said, shaking his head.

"Hersh, it's over, honey."

"She's only nineteen. She's throwing her life away!"

"It's her life to do with as she will," Annette told him, holding his face in her hands. "She can still go to school."

"She won't go to school. She's gonna want to play house with Dixon!"

"You're fighting a war against your youngest growing up," said Annette. "You, like all fathers, have lost this war. She's made her choice, and like she said, you don't have to like it, but you do have to accept it. It's late, Hersh. Let's get home."

Hershel watched Beth disappear into the darkness, feeling as though he'd lost something more than a simple war to keep his baby girl from becoming a woman. He'd lost control. He'd lost her to some man that he didn't believe was good enough for her. What galled him the most was to know that both Beth and Annette was right. He didn't have to like it. He hated it, but he would have to accept it was so. He just didn't think he could ever accept Daryl Dixon as a son-in-law, if they went that far. All he could hope for now was that she grew out of it and eventually broke up with him.

* * *

_**Beth collapsed onto the bed**_, exhausted and tired from the drugs. They'd given her fluids intravenously and that made her feel better, but the whole ordeal left her sore and sleepy. Daryl collapsed beside her and set the alarm clock on his bedside table.

"Thank God it's Friday and I have the weekend off," he said.

He wrapped his arms around Beth and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"You sure about this?"

"I've never been surer of anything in my life. I'm home with the man I love. This is right."

He agreed. This did feel right. She kissed him lightly on the lips before snuggling down beside him. The darkness, the cool air from the AC, and the steady hum of the life in the forest that surrounded them came together to put them into a deep sleep. It was, Daryl would realize the next morning, the best night of rest he'd ever had.


End file.
